The first time I hit him with a coconut was an accident.

I wanted a drink and the man handed me a coconut. Can you believe that, Bob? Hell if I know exactly where we were at the time, bein' as how we got there on a rowboat. He said we were seekin' solitude.

Seekin' solitude? A man does not take his beautiful wife on holiday in the Caribbean to go seekin' solitude. It ain't right. I was seekin' to sun myself on a tropical beach with an exquisite tropical drink in my hand, preferably served by a younger tropical gentleman. Instead, I found myself sittin' on a desolate island with a coconut. And my soon-to-be ex-husband, of course.

I'm sure you can understand why I was not in the best of moods at that point in time.

My then-husband looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes of his and asked what I was thinkin'. I was so steamed, I said "I'll tell you what with this coconut!" as I slugged him with it. This was the second time I'd hit him with that particular coconut, as I mentioned the first time had been an accident. The second time, I meant it. Sometimes a lady doesn't know her own strength though, because I managed to knock him right off that cliff we were danglin' our legs from as we sat there in our newfound solitude.

Mamma always said you can count on a man to over-react in just about any situation, and she was right because he started actin' crazier than a sprayed roach... screamin' all kinds of nonsense and swingin' his arm. Truth be told, he was a lot better at fallin' than he was at landin', though he only fell maybe ten or twenty feet in this instance.

Even worse than over-reactin', Bob, I tell you, my ex was an indecisive man. One minute, he said he wanted solitude, and the next, he wanted a doctor. I told him "It's time you make up your mind, Addy, 'cause you can't have both!"

And, so, we got in the rowboat again and headed back to Saint whatever the hell the first island we came from was called. St. Lucia? St. Croix? Hell, I don't know. And, this time, because he happened to break his arm fallin' off the cliff due to me tellin' him what with a coconut... Somehow that meant I had to row.

Can you picture a delicate woman, such as myself, doin' manual labor, Bob? I tell you, it's undignified.

Bein' as how I was busy rowin' us back to Saint Whatever island to get him a doctor, I thought it only fair that my soon-to-be not-husband start tidyin' up the boat, especially since it was his blood makin' the mess. Oh, yeah, he was bleedin' a bit, on account of the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.

This is when I came to realize I'd married a man who was not only over-reactin' and indecisive... He was squeamish too. Honestly, you'd think he never saw blood before. I told him... I said "So what? I bleed once a month, just like clockwork!" Bleedin's not that big a deal, Bob, but apparently my ex thought otherwise, because he collapsed at the sight of one of his own natural fluids.

I didn't find that to be particularly helpful at all.

Now, I can accept a man with an over-reactin', indecisive and squeamish nature if he's at least got some common sense, but I came to find out my ex-husband was sorely lacking in that regard. I swear, he didn't even think to look at where it was he'd be faintin'. He just saw a pool of his own blood gatherin' at his feet and he passed right out, unintentionally flopping himself over the side of the boat in the process.

I was quite disturbed by this, as I'm sure you can imagine. I said "Addison P. Copeland, you better climb back into this boat right this very minute!" But did he listen? Of course not. My sister's second cousin-in-law's best friend Jenny-Sue says men never do, although, I declare, Bob, you seem to be an excellent listener. Did you notice how I went so far as to use my overboard-floppin' ex-husband's middle initial to make certain he knew how upset with him I was? Well, he must not have noticed at all because he just laid face down in that water, failin' to pay any mind to what I had to say.

And that's when I knew I was gonna have to find myself another man. God rest Addy's soul.

The whole incident put a damper on our honeymoon, sure enough, but I can't say all was for naught since I did learn somethin': always remove a man's wallet from his pants before you get in a rowboat with him because that man may drown, and then how the hell is he gonna pay for the damage his blood does to the wooden veneer? Assuming you're not in a metal rowboat, of course.

Clearly, my ex-husband did not think that through when he took a swim.

Good heavens, Bob, where are my manners? I didn't mean to be such a chatter-bug tonight. Do you want to tell me how your last relationship came to pass, or have we arrived at the point in the evenin' when we should start talkin' about us? ...bein' as how we're on our first date and all...

::::: | Saturday, Oct 17 2009 at 1:04 PM
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karen said:

you need to write a book of short stories b/c i would def read it. this was quite entertaining! :)

::::: | October 17, 2009 2:13 PM

(won't be published)


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